


The Muffin Man

by chemically_yours



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Baking, Clint Is a Good Bro, Domestic Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:12:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6151804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemically_yours/pseuds/chemically_yours
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a muffin fairy in Avenger's Tower and Tony Stark is determined to catch whoever it is</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Muffin Man

Later, Tony wouldn’t even remember the morning that started it all. He dragged himself into the kitchen bleary-eyed and grease-covered after pulling an all-nighter in the workshop. He knew he should probably get some sleep, but he was so close to increasing the thruster capacity that it would be a shame to stop now. He only needed a few more hours of caffeine-fueled engineering and he’d be done. He didn’t even notice the other Avengers sitting at the table until Steve wished him good morning.

Tony thought he nodded and grunted something in reply, but who could really say when the aroma of his specially imported Peruvian blend was making its way to his distracted mind? He clutched his precious cargo to his chest as he shuffled his way back to his work. Someone, Bruce maybe, offered him one of the muffins sitting in a pile on the table. Tony took a chug of coffee and grunted. Who had time for breakfast? He was on the verge of perfecting the Mark 48. Coffee was the only sustenance he needed.

If Tony had known then what his rebuff of the muffin and his unconscious remarks would set in motion, he’d have just taken the damn thing. As it was, on that quiet, sunny, Friday morning, Tony Stark had just started a war.

...

Tony remained blissfully unaware of the approaching battle that he had unwittingly triggered. He worked on his armor, drank unhealthy amounts of coffee, cranked out product designs for SI, slept for 3 hours a night, and joined the Avengers’ weekly movie night. Life went on.

 

...

 

On Friday morning, Tony wandered into his workshop, eager to get to work. He’d woken up with his mind ablaze with ideas of potential applications for the new green energy initiative he was starting at the California facilities. DUM-E came whistling over with a plate clutched in his claw. On the plate was a single muffin. Tony stared at the muffin, then at DUM-E, then back at the muffin. A cautious glance at the kitchen showed it to be just as clean as he’d left it. Tony eyed the muffin wearily.

“JARVIS, where did DUM-E get that muffin?”

DUM-E lifted the plate hopefully in Tony’s direction.

 “I’m sorry, Sir, but that information is classified.”

 “The muffin’s origin is…classified?”

 “Yes, Sir.”

 “On whose authority?”

 “I’m afraid that information is also classified.”

 “JARVIS can you tell me anything at all about this muffin?”

 “I believe it is blueberry-flavored, Sir.”

 Tony continued to stare down at DUM-E and the muffin. DUM-E turned his head to look at Tony through his camera, which unfortunately caused the muffin to plummet to its crumbly doom. DUM-E stared down at the sad pile of crumbs that had once been a blueberry muffin. He slowly panned his camera back up to look at Tony. Tony raised an eyebrow.

 “Clean it up,” Tony ordered as he went to fetch the dunce cap.

 

…

 

On Tuesday, Tony was confronted by croissants. Three sat on a plate on the counter in the workshop’s mini kitchen. Sitting next to them was a container of whipped butter and two jars of jam.

 “JARVIS, where did these come from?”

 “My apologies, but I cannot divulge that information.”

 Tony paused, remembering the muffin incident. He’d nearly forgotten, dismissed it as a strange dream after the 3-day engineering bender he’d gone on following it.

 “Please don’t tell me the croissants are classified.”

 “Very well, Sir. I shall not tell you.”

 The aroma of the croissants hung thick and buttery in the air. Tony’s mouth watered. Maybe just one…

 “JARVIS, bring up security footage from the past hour.”

 The croissants were so fresh that steam was still rising off of them. Whoever had brought them had left just before Tony had arrived.

 “Begin playback. 2.5x speed.”

 Ignoring the croissants, Tony picked up a freshly brewed cup of coffee and took a bracing sip. The footage played back normally, then, about ten minutes before Tony had entered, the screen went black. It came back online just as Tony appeared in the doorway. So, someone had deposited the croissants during a ten-minute security blackout that the culprit most likely had caused. Not good.

 “DUM-E, get rid of those croissants. I don’t trust them. JARVIS, bring up the security programming. Clearly it isn’t strong enough. Also, go over the inventory and make sure nothing was taken.”

 Tony cracked his knuckles and got to work. It was going to be a long day.

…

 

Two days later there was a large chunk of cake and a note. Tony picked the note up gingerly, holding the corner between his forefinger and thumb.

_It’s not poisoned, dumbass. This one is a French Vanilla Coffee Cake. Eat your damn breakfast!_

Tony eyed the note suspiciously. Not poisoned. He snorted. Yeah, right, that was exactly what someone with ill intent would want him to think. He still remembered the hot pepper jello shot that Rhodey had sworn was cherry flavored. He brushed the cake into the garbage can. It would take more than a clever note to fool Tony Stark!

…

Tony entered the kitchen jet-lagged and starving. He’d just gotten back from an engineering conference in Belgium, and he was due back at SI in an hour for a very important board meeting.

 “Ah! Greetings, friend Tony. I’m glad to see you have returned to us at last. Come, share a meal with me and tell me the tale of your travels. This cream of clots is a most delightful companion to the latest pastries I have discovered.”

 It was at that point that Tony noticed the rather impressive mound of scones that Thor was quickly devouring. Tony settled down at the table and selected a scone. It looked like it had cranberries in it. He chewed a bite thoughtfully as Thor eagerly offered the pot of clotted cream. Tony took a spoonful to appease him.

 “’Fraid I don’t have much of a story to tell you. Brussels is always lovely this time of year, but the conference was a bit tiring. Still, it’s always nice when you get a younger crowd in. Future of science and all that. Say, do you know where these scones came from?”

 They were pretty tasty, and he’d like to get the name of the bakery. Thor grinned ear to ear and leaned forward, as if he were sharing a secret. This illusion was shattered when he continued speaking at his usual boisterous volume.

 “Indeed. Hawkeye hath told me the tale of the mighty Man of Muffins, master of all pastries and cookware.”

 “What, you mean the ‘Muffin Man?’”

 “Verily. Tell me, Tony, do you know the Muffin Man?”

 Thor asked this in a solemn tone that did not match the twinkle in his eye. Tony had the distinct impression that he was being punk’d. He answered anyway.

 “Sure, he lives on Drury Lane.”

 Thor gave a deep, full-bellied laugh and clapped Tony on the shoulder.

 “Most excellent, my friend.”

 They were both distracted by Natasha joining them. Tony answered her inquiries about the conference before slinking off to shower and get ready for his meeting. He’d have to ask JARVIS where he could order more of those scones from.

…

Tony scrolled through the lines of code in front of him. Those scones hadn’t been purchased. Someone was leaving baked goods all over the tower. Worse, whoever it was didn’t want anyone to know and was skilled enough to make sure no one did. With a back door into his system, the most logical explanation was that one of the tower’s other inhabitants was doing it. This meant that the treats he’d been finding were probably safe to consume. However, it irked him that whoever it was didn’t want him to know. Which of course, meant that Tony had to know.  
Behind him, Butterfingers and U hummed and chirped as they assembled his newest security measures. DUM-E watched his brother bots warily, a fire extinguisher clutched in his claw, ready to spray at the smallest spark.

…

Tony entered the lab and managed to catch a glimpse of donuts sitting smugly on the counter before he was covered from head to toe with flour. It would appear the Mad Baker (No, he was not going to give them a super villain name. He wasn’t.) had disarmed the special sprinkler system Tony had rigged to cover the culprit in paint. Tony looked up to see an elaborate pulley system holding a bucket over the door. The sound of fast-approaching wheels didn’t register with Tony until the foam hit him. DUM-E wheeled back to admire his handiwork. Tony wondered which community college would benefit most from a bot donation.

…

Tony ignored the sweat dripping down his face as he welded the last strut into place. If he couldn’t catch the (Lord help him) Muffin Man with simple tricks, he would simply have to be creative. He couldn’t make anything obvious or in plain sight. He looked his device over carefully, then turned off the torch and put his equipment away.

 “JARVIS, execute program MMIII.”

 The hologram projection hid his latest creation from view, making it seem as if there was nothing but wall. The second anything was set on that counter the person in front of it would get a face full of specially formulated non-toxic UV-luminescent spray. New filter settings on the cameras would then light the guilty party up like a Christmas tree and set off an alarm alerting Tony to their location. Now all he had to do was wait.

…

Three days later, Tony was beginning to think he’d chased the mystery baker away. He hummed merrily as he entered the workshop only to be proven wrong by the cinnamon bun sitting innocently on his counter. Tony frowned down at the plate. A look at the catapult showed it had not been triggered. A slip of paper lay half-concealed. Without thinking, Tony lifted the plate to get at the note. JARVIS had enough time to say “Sir, I wouldn’t-” before the catapult triggered and Tony received a face full of icing.

 DUM-E rolled up and offered a rag coated in grease and oil. With a sigh Tony dabbed at the sticky substance. He got enough off to read the note.

  _You can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man._

 The note was signed with a doodle of a gingerbread man making a rather rude gesture. Clearly, Tony would just have to try harder.

…

Tony opened the workshop door and waited a full three seconds before poking his head in. He looked around the workshop suspiciously and slowly stepped inside. He gave JARVIS the code to shut down the laser grid and then made his way over to the kitchen. Today’s plate, according to the note, contained a pecan caramel sticky bun. Underneath the name were instructions to look up. Tony inhaled deeply and slowly inclined his gaze upward. He managed to dodge the sticky bun that plummeted from the ceiling. Unfortunately, this brought him right in line with the second bun. It hit its target with a splat.

…

Tony spent the night sleeping on the cot in the workshop. It was the fourth night in a row. The Baker wouldn’t attempt to leave anything in the workshop while Tony was there. So it stood to reason that if Tony just spent every night down in the workshop, there would be no more mystery baked goods, and therefore no need to uncover the identity of the baker. It was such a simple solution Tony didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

…

Tony opened his groggy eyes and rolled onto his side, doing his best to ignore the squeaking protests of his body. The cot wasn’t the most comfortable surface to spend a night on, and he was starting to get too old for this. He blinked wearily at the sight that greeted him on the table. Once Tony registered that he was looking at a pile of muffins, he jumped up in a panic.

…

The other Avengers all looked up as Tony barged into the kitchen. It was unusual for him to join them for breakfast, as he was most likely either still awake from the night before or could be expected to sleep several hours past what polite society deemed as acceptable for breakfast.

 “WHICH ONE OF YOU IS IT?”

 Several brows went up at Tony’s strange outburst. There was a pregnant pause in which everyone looked at each other in confusion to see if anyone could figure out what the hell Tony was talking about. Steve went ahead and bit the bullet.

 “Which one of us is what, Tony?”

 Tony plowed right on without acknowledging the question.

 “You win, okay. Is that what you want to hear? I give up. I can’t take it anymore. I need to know. Don’t bother trying to hide it. I know it has to be one of you. Nobody else knows my workshop or my tech well enough to be getting away with it. The bots would never have let anyone other than you guys in while I was sleeping. So which one of you is doing it?”

 “Tony, we don’t know what you’re talking about. Who’s doing what? Did someone mess around in your workshop?”

 Tony ignored Bruce. His gaze bounced from one Avenger to the next before finally settling on Natasha who was calmly sipping her tea and reading the newspaper as if this whole debacle were an everyday occurrence. Tony pointed a finger at her accusingly.

 “It’s you, isn’t it? I should have known. How cliché. The woman is the baker. Do you wear an apron? Is it frilly?”

 Natasha set her cup down and turned the page. “Wrong,” she replied without even glancing up.

 “Wait. Baking? Is this about Clint’s breakfasts?”

 “Dammit, Steve. You just ruined the game.”

 “What?”

 Tony gaped at the archer in shock.

 “It was BARTON?? This entire time….but why….HOW? I didn’t think you’d even know what a whisk was for!”

 “Fuck you, Stark, I have refined taste buds!”

 “Like hell you do. I have seen you eat mac and cheese with ketchup. Ketchup! That’s absolutely disgusting.”

 “If by disgusting you mean delicious, then yes, you are 100% correct.”

 Steve stepped in.

 “Hold on. What’s going on? Tony, why are you so upset?”

 “Because clearly he has no appreciation for the culinary arts.”

 “YOU ATTACKED ME WITH STICKY BUNS!”

 “Technically, the sticky buns fell all on their own. It’s not my fault you happened to be standing under them.”

 “That is a complete load of-”

 Natasha slammed her cup down on the table, ushering in silence. She deliberately looked at first Tony and then Clint dead in the eyes, instilling the fear of her sting in both.

 “Boys, enough. You are disrupting breakfast. Clint, stop torturing Tony. Offer him breakfast like a normal human being. Tony, your eating habits are deplorable and concerning. Eat the breakfast that Clint has so thoughtfully made for you so the rest of us don’t have to worry about you collapsing from malnutrition. This had better be the last I hear about this incident. Do you understand?”

 Both men nodded silently in agreement.

 “Good. Now, Tony sit down and join us for once. Clint was just about to make us all waffles.”

 “I was not-”

 Clint’s protest died with Natasha’s glare.

 “Waffles. With fresh whipped cream and fruit.”

 Clint saluted and retrieved a surprisingly ruffly purple apron from a drawer before gathering ingredients from the pantry. Tony sat down at the table. Steve placed a large cup of coffee in front of him and offered a smile. Tony tried to return the smile over the rim of the mug and settle into his seat.

 

As Tony chatted with his fellow Avengers and let the clatter of Clint in the kitchen wash over him he thought that maybe adding Team Breakfast to their movie and dinner nights in his schedule wouldn’t be such a bad idea.


End file.
